Accidentaly Divine Page 22

  The hell she’d let him win this round. If she died in the process, she was taking this monster with her.

  Instead of fighting Houston, George decided to go limp, forcing her father to allow her body to slink back to a sitting position. She’d read somewhere that it would catch your captor off guard. Boneless, she slumped, deciding she was in some kind of basement. It was dank and smelled of mold.

  Whoever had written the article was right—he was caught off guard, giving her a chance to raise her knees and dig her heels into the concrete floor. “So let’s not pussyfoot around, huh, Dad? You want my wings, right?”

  He grinned, one of his teeth wobbling in his gums. “You got it, little lady.”

  “How did you find out I was an angel? Been keeping tabs on me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, shoving her heels deeper into the floor.

  Houston Maverick chuckled, greasy and mean. “Oh, I get around. Word gets around, too.”

  “You mean in Hell, Dad? Where all animals who stab their wives go when they die?”

  Now he was really angry, and even through this demonic state he was now in, she recognized that anger. She’d seen it a million times in her life.

  Houston used his open palm to smack her across the face, stealing her breath away and leaving her skin burning.

  As her heart pounded against her chest, he hissed, “You shut your dirty mouth, young lady! Your mother got what she deserved! She died because she couldn’t obey me!”

  But George was just as angry. All the years of putting a pillow over her head. All the years of hiding in sheer terror. All the fear he’d instilled in her, all the self-hatred she’d allowed him to create, left her mad as hell.

  He’d killed her mother. She didn’t just die. He’d killed her.

  The thought, the very words, left her livid and shaking with rage. “Don’t you mean you killed her because she didn’t obey you, you disgusting pig? She didn’t die, you animal! You murdered her!”

  Now he grew angrier than she’d ever seen him before. His blue eyes, once so like hers, swirled orange with hatred. As he hauled her up the wall by her neck, he screamed, “I swear to Christ, you little mouthy shit, I’ll kill you if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

  She almost vomited from the stench of his breath, but at least now he wasn’t blocking her view. There was a staircase right behind him with an old wooden door. If she could just get away from him and make it up those stairs, she might have a chance.

  Her neck muscles bulged as she hung against the wall, fighting for breath, his incredible strength frightening her.

  But she refused to show him her fear. Instead, she dug her nails into his fingers, twisting her head, the skin of her neck raw.

  “Talk,” she huffed out, straining with every word. “Let’s talk.”

  Houston cocked his head, his salt and pepper hair, much longer than he’d ever worn it, hanging in long, straggly tufts down the side of his face. “Sure, honeybuns. Let’s talk,” he said with a smarmy wink. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

  Trying to shake her head, George demanded in a rasp of words, “Put me down first.”

  Houston dropped her like she was on fire. Her butt hit the floor with a smack. Ignoring the sharp pain, she slid right back up the wall and faced him.

  Clearing her throat, she fought her contempt, her hatred, her disgust in order to hopefully distract him and get away. “Let’s talk turkey, Dad. What do you want?”

  She knew damn well what he wanted, but she had to buy some time. She didn’t know how much power he had as a demon. Obviously, he could run with a good amount of speed and disappear. Nina and Wanda had said as much. He’d snatched her up at Effie’s and then she’d woke up here.

  He’d done it right in front of Wanda. That meant he had some powers, but she sure didn’t want to stick around to find out what else he had up his sleeve.

  But if she caught him off guard again…

  Houston planted his hands on his hips, his fingernails dirty, his clothes covered in soot. “You know what I want. I want your damn wings, Georgie Porgie Puddin’ Pie.”

  “Why, Dad? Why do you want my wings?”

  She knew why. Or at least she thought she did. He wanted her soul. He wanted her to die just like her mother.

  But Houston scoffed and narrowed his seething gaze at her. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  Jutting her chin out, for the first time in her life, George shot back and she did it with venom. “I’ll let you kill me before I’ll summon them and it’ll be just like old times. Your useless, good-for-nothin’ kid, failing you again, right?”

  He eyed her, his gaunt face full of malice, his skin pulled taut over his cheekbones. And when he answered, she had to fight not to launch herself at him and tear his eyes out of his head.

  “I want your wings so I can get into Heaven, and then I’m gonna hunt that bitch of a mother of yours down and make her mine all over again.”

  His words of old rang in her ears. If she ever leaves me, I’ll hunt her to the ends of the earth.

  Again. George Denise Maverick wasn’t much of a swearer, but fuuuuck.

  Chapter 24

  “Where the fuck are we?” Nina asked as they all stood around in front of a row of new construction.

  The snow must have held things up. There were supplies everywhere, the drifts in the dirt driveways almost as tall as Dex.

  “Darnell? Are you sure she’s here?” Wanda asked, rolling up her sleeves and peering into the darkness.

  The big demon nodded his head, lifting his baseball cap off his head to scrub a hand over his hair before setting it back in place. “As sure as I’m standin’ here. I smell him. I know his scent, Wanda. That dirty bird’s here—somewhere.”

  Nina cracked her knuckles and rolled her head on her neck. “I smell the motherfucker, too, Wanda. Now we just have to narrow it down because his stench is everywhere. And when I get whoever this fuck is, I’m going to rip his organs out and make GD spaghetti out of his intestines.”

  Dex had turned away from the group with a thrashing heart filled with panic he had to keep in check, cocking his ear as he looked around at the new houses. Two stories, all of them, in a cul-de-sac, with big porches and stone fronts.

  That’s when he saw movement from a basement window of a white and blue traditional with a yellow door, and without thinking, he drifted away from the group. He took one furtive look around at the deserted construction site and didn’t think twice before he summoned his wings, hurling them over his shoulders and gliding through the air to the basement window so he wouldn’t make any noise with his boots in the snow.

  There it was again, the movement was slight, and it was rapid, but he saw it. Who else could be here at this time of night? Unless some rogue kids were partying, it had to be George and whoever had nabbed her.

  The question was, who had nabbed her?

  But damned if he could see inside the window. It was covered in dirt and grime from the construction debris and a drift of snow, leaving only outlines of shadows and muffled voices.

  He needed to get inside somehow. He couldn’t simply appear out of nowhere and take the chance whoever had George might startle easily and hurt her. So Dex decided to float up the steps of the house, pressing his ear to the door, wondering if it was locked—and that’s when he heard her.

  George. It was definitely her. She was inside, yelling for all she was worth. He’d know her lilting tone anywhere. He couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but she was in there, leaving his heart pumping and his chest unbearable tight.

  Which left him with two choices. Find the women and Darnell and risk the chance George could end up without a soul in the time he spent locating them or go it alone.

  Where had everyone gone anyway? His eyes took a quick scan of the property and the neighborhood, covered with enormous mounds of dirt and snow and didn’t see anyone.

  But he didn’t have time to wait. George’s voice was rising with each mu
ffled word she spoke. He didn’t need to hear the actual words to know her tone was laced with panic.

  Trying the door handle with no luck, he decided to peek in the windows and see if there was a room he could pop into where he could sneak up on them. Cupping his hands, Dex looked into the tall window on the right of the porch and decided it looked like as good a place as any.

  Sending his wings away, he closed his eyes and focused on the interior of the room and a mere blip later, found himself standing in a dining room, where George’s voice grew stronger.

  Clenching his fists, Dex prepared for a battle—no way was this asshole going to hurt the woman he loved.

  Not on his watch.

  George’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits, her rage, her anguish, her fear rising to bounds she didn’t know were possible. “So you want to get into Heaven so you can do what? Kill her? You’re a little late to that party, huh, Dad? She’s kinda already dead.”

  “Shut up, you smartass little shit!” he roared, lurching forward, which was not part of the plan. She needed to get behind him if she was going to make a break for it.

  Holding up her hands, she chuckled, wondering what had come over her. She was laughing in his face, taunting him, begging him to come at her, knowing full well he could end her.

  But she felt freer than she had in a million years.

  Tipping her head back, she laughed outright. Loud and with abandon. “Oh, chill, Dad. I don’t get why you get so freaked out. It’s what gave you that heart attack, isn’t it? You know, the one that killed you? The one that landed you right where you were supposed to be. Rotting in Hell!”

  He paced in front of her, huffing like a bull in heat, and as she got a really good view of the basement from the small overhead bulb, George decided to make a break for it and she saw just the distraction she needed, gleaming and shiny on someone’s workbench.

  “Call those wings up, Georgina! Call them now, or I swear to Christ, I’ll kill you!” Houston bellowed, angry and loud. Just like the old days.

  Swerving to the right of him, she pointed. “Look, Dad!” she sang, using the most cheerful tone she could muster. “It’s a hammer.” He turned around, giving her the opportunity to skitter past him and grab the hammer on the makeshift bench. “Do you remember this?”

  George took some sort of weird satisfaction that she’d been able to stop him in his tracks as he cocked his head. “What the hell are you spouting off about, Georgina?” he growled, his voice sinister.

  George clenched the handle and held it up, the black rubber casing cool against her hand, her heart crashing in her ears. “This, Dad. This hammer. Remember? It’s exactly like the one you used to smash Mom’s fingers when she forgot to buy your steak. See?” she asked pleasantly—just before she lobbed it at his head.

  And as Houston Maverick took the spiky end of the hammer to his forehead, George thought something completely ridiculous.

  He had been good for something. He’d taught her how to throw a baseball. His good-for-nothing daughter wasn’t so good-for-nothing after all.

  As Houston screamed, spinning around in a circle, holding his hands to his forehead, George made a break for it, running up the stairs, taking them three at a time until she reached the top and grabbed the handle of the door, pushing it open with a grunt and toppling into a room with sheetrock and planks of wood in piles.

  A house? She was in someone’s house? The scent of stain and paint permeated her nose. In an instant, her brain made the connection. She was in a house under construction.

  But George didn’t even look at where she was or try to find a point of reference, she began to run, looking to find the door out.

  But then she heard a crash and voices. Stopping all motion, George attempted to orient herself when she heard, “How nice. Her boyfriend. Did you come to save her?”

  “Where is George?” a voice roared.

  Dex?

  No. No. No!

  What was he doing down there? How had he gotten in? Had he teleported into the basement? Had he come alone?

  Leaning against the wall, George turned back around. No way was she leaving Dex down there.

  She didn’t know how powerful he was or if he could suffer. She only knew he couldn’t die because he was already dead. But she wasn’t leaving him down there with her psychopath father in order to find out what a demon could do to him.

  Whirling around, she looked for a weapon, any kind of weapon, and found a long level, which would have to do.

  She snuck back across the floor to the tune of muffled voices, praying her father wouldn’t hear her footsteps. Thankfully, the basement door was still open and, as she crept down the stairs, she saw Dex, facing off with Houston.

  The hammer still embedded in his forehead, Houston eyed Dex with so much venom, it took George’s breath away. Not only that, he held something in his hand—something shiny.

  Her stomach rocked and rolled and her heart throbbed in her chest. In the distance, she heard voices, but she didn’t have time to decipher who they belonged to when her father yelled.

  “I’m gonna get some wings tonight, and I don’t give a shit whose they are. So call up your wings, loverboy! Do it now and this can all be over. Otherwise, I’ll hunt Georgina to the end of damn time!”

  Just as he spoke the words, the stupid staircase creaked.

  Her father, without turning around, said, “Did you come to save loverboy, Georgie Porgie?”

  “Let him leave, Dad. Let him leave now,” she hissed, gripping the level in her hands.

  “Or what?” he sneered with a cackle. “What are you gonna do?”

  “George, go back. Get out,” Dex said calmly. Too calmly, his beautiful face a hard mask.

  “No, Dex,” she argued, slipping down another step, her clammy hand clinging to the level. “Let him leave.”

  But Houston shook his scraggly head. “I don’t think so, Cupcake. I’m gonna kill your boyfriend here if I don’t get some wings!”

  This was ridiculous. Angels were already dead. “Don’t be obtuse. Angels can’t die, Dad. Now let him leave!”

  Why wasn’t Dex steamrolling her father instead of standing there with his arms up, bent at the elbows? What was happening?”

  Dex’s hard face stiffened and his eyes searched for her on the steps, his voice. “George, he has a blade—a blade that can kill me with one nick to my skin. Get out.”

  The knife she wasn’t supposed to worry about? The knife that was only a, cough-cough, legend? A legend embellished ov er time?

  Seriously?

  The moment George thought about the hell she’d give him if they got out of this intact was the moment she lost her footing and tumbled down the steps, crashing to the floor below.

  That was when her father scooped up her aching body up and held the knife to her neck, leaving her facing a clearly distraught Dex. “Move and I end it all right here, right now, loverboy!”

  Again, that rebellious voice inside spoke up, even with a deadly knife to her throat. “If you do that, Dad, how are you going to get past the Pearly Gates? Let Dex go and I’ll give you my wings.”

  “George! No!” Dex yelled, his jaw hard, his eyes on fire. “Stop, right now!”

  His arm like a steel band around her chest, Houston pushed the blade against her chin. “I’ll slice her open like a wee little pig and laugh while she bleeds!”

  Dex looked at her, his eyes pleading before he said, “Take my wings, Houston. I’ll call them now if you let her go.”

  “When I see the wings, she’s all yours, loverboy,” Houston assured him, his lips greasy against George’s ear.

  He couldn’t be serious! Why would he do something like that?

  Closing his eyes, Dex summoned his wings like he’d tried to teach her to do so many times before.

  As the outline of them began to take shape, pushing through the darkness, she screamed, “Dex, nooo! Stop!”

  But they were already there, and Houston was dropping her again to
reach for them, their magnificent mother-of-pearl white glowing in the semi-dark basement.

  As Houston’s hand touched the glistening white feathers, George was up and off the floor in seconds while Dex crumbled.

  It took only a moment to realize this animal’s touch, this man she’d been forced to call father, now a demon, was going to kill Dex just by making contact with his wings.

  “Get out!” Dex yelled in a hoarse whisper, his voice so weak, his face a mask of agony.

  “The hell!” George hollered back as she made a run for her father, the image of her mother, bathed in blood on his study floor, rife in her mind’s eye. “Nooo!”

  George threw herself at him, knocking him to the floor and away from Dex’s wings, only to have him backhand her and slam her to the hard basement floor.

  But her rage, her anguish over her mother’s untimely murder, had her lifting herself off the floor, hurling herself toward his broad back.

  She wrapped herself around him like a crab capturing prey. Using her thumbs, she jammed them into his eyes. “I’ll kill you, you animal! I’ll kill you for murdering my mother!” she bellowed, spittle flying from her mouth, sweat pouring from her forehead. “For all the times you made me afraid, for every bruise you gave her, for every time I was taken advantage of, I’ll kill you!”

  Houston swung around, whipping her back and forth to try to dislodge her, but she held him tight, pummeling him with her fists, yanking at his hair…

  Until he shot a fireball, that is.

  With one hand, he grabbed George by the back of her dress and flipped her over his head. She landed on her backside on the floor right next to Dex’s wings.

  And that was when he shot the first fireball.

  Dear God in Heaven, he had fireballs.

  The first one narrowly missed her, its fiery fingers lashing the air as it sizzled and snapped.

  And then he shot another, and another, all the while inching closer to the wings until he had his hands on them.

  “No! You sick son of a bitch, no!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

  A quick glimpse of Dex on the floor, looking white and gasping for breath, was all she needed to summon the strength to hold on to his wings.